Friday, December 13, 2013


At the beginning of this week we had a baby snow storm followed by a little ice storm followed by another baby snow storm. It was enough to close down this whole region, though, as we are not locally well-equipped to face such meteorological adversity.

{back porch, Sunday}

{back yard, Monday}

Sometimes I think how lucky my kids are that snow here is rare enough to be so exciting. They adore snow! They played outside for hours! I associate snow with bleakness and shoveling and toes so cold they ache and seasonal depression. They're happy to make a two-foot snowman. Our snowmen usually sit on the bench on the back porch. Why? We usually never get enough raw materials falling on us for a creature of full height.

{Except for that one time...}

They don't know what it's like not to see grass for months because any surface not treated with salt or chemicals never loses its snowy cover. They don't know mountains in far corners of parking lots that look enchanting on being freshly formed, then dull, then dingy, then nearly black at a season's accumulation of car exhaust. They don't know how for three years I lived in a town where I'd have to shovel out my back tires after a twenty-minute trip into the grocery store. They don't understand why I grumble at snow. Their perspective is far better, of course.

We're supposed to get a little more snow tomorrow. Maybe an inch, maybe two. I don't want to see it; I never do. But those littles of mine are clamoring, hoping. It's very exciting, seeing the best in possibility.

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